


Picnic with a happy ending

by Fafsernir



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fafsernir/pseuds/Fafsernir
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley were having a nice picnic outside. The weather was nice, the park not too crowded. Crowley was talking about them, about what ifs and why nots, about getting a place together... Aziraphale was listening. Of course he was listening. On the other hand, Crowley's lips looked very inviting. His very tight shirt too.





	Picnic with a happy ending

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Ineffable Husbands NSFW Week's](https://ineffablehusbandsweek.tumblr.com/post/187228656901/ineffable-husbands-week-and-nsfw-ineffable) Day 2: Public sex / voyeurism / exhibitionism
> 
> Thanks[Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay) again for beta'ing and helping for this week :D

Aziraphale was the one to initiate it. He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t planned it, but Crowley was here and… he sometimes didn’t control himself.

They were out for lunch, on their now regular picnic together. They were at their usual spot and had just finished eating when Crowley sighed contently and dramatically leaned his back against Aziraphale, between his legs. That, in itself, was already too much for the poor angel.

Crowley probably didn’t mean anything by it, but he was talking about them getting some house, maybe, possibly, perhaps, if Aziraphale was down – he certainly had not been thinking about it for a while, no – and it drove Aziraphale crazy to think that Crowley had spent time dreaming about them living together. They had already discussed it once or twice before but had never talked about places and types of houses.

While it was all very nice to think and talk about that, Aziraphale’s eyes kept looking at Crowley, especially at any exposed skin his shirt allowed him to have – not much, it was too tight around him for Aziraphale to be able to see anything. Tight.

“Are you listening, angel?” Crowley asked, arching his back to look at Aziraphale. The latter inhaled soundly when Crowley’s back scraped his apparently already hard cock. “Oh.”

Crowley stared up at him for a long second, then a mischievous smile appeared on his perfect lips.

“I see—”

Aziraphale shut him up with a kiss, cupping his face and squeezing as the lips he had been daydreaming about finally met his own. He took in the long sigh Crowley let go of as they kissed deeply.

“We’re…” Crowley said once they parted, but Aziraphale interrupted him with another kiss. Crowley eventually pushed a hand against his chest to talk. “The Bentley’s just around the corner,” he breathed out.

“No.” It sounded more steady than Aziraphale felt. He wasn’t thinking much anymore, he wasn’t controlling his body much anymore, either. 

Crowley looked confused for a second, then he inhaled sharply as he felt a hand trailing down his chest. “Angel, you—”

Aziraphale miracled a tartan blanket without thinking, because it felt like a good idea, to cover Crowley’s lap, as his hand reached his crotch.

Aziraphale shushed Crowley’s next words, pulling him back properly against his chest and breathing in his ear. “Behave,” he whispered, and Crowley groaned. “Ssshh,” he whispered again. Crowley closed his mouth, taking a deep breath. “Good boy.” Aziraphale kissed his ear as a reward.

Crowley bucked his hips in silence, biting his lower lip, probably strong enough to draw a bit of blood, except that his imagination didn’t let him.

Aziraphale stroked him through the tight pants, smiling at how obligingly Crowley obeyed him, and how good he behaved. He ran his free hand through the red hair, and let the demon lean against the contact, closing his eyes.

Aziraphale did not close his eyes for a second. He stared at Crowley’s face and body as closely as he could. He noticed the shivers running down on Crowley’s arm when he ran his thumb on his cock’s head, the spasms in his jaw as he carefully opened his pants, the way he pursed his lips as to not cry out or moan, his hands squeezing Aziraphale’s thighs so tightly. He saw how his head rolled back against his chest, presenting a neck that Aziraphale did not kiss.

Crowley’s eyes snapped open when Aziraphale reached in his trousers and his hand finally closed on his cock. Aziraphale’s other hand flew to his mouth before he could make any sound, and he groaned against the hand, relaxing completely under Aziraphale’s hands.

He was completely at his mercy, and Aziraphale was focusing hard not to let a whimper out himself. Crowley was such a beautiful creature and he looked so lustful, so… dirty, sexy. He looked exactly like someone who was getting a hand job in a public space and was not discreet about it, but at this moment, Aziraphale couldn’t bother to give a care about it. Maybe he miracled some influences, some nudges towards another direction, some suggestions of ice cream at the nearby ice-cream truck, further away.

At least, nobody except Aziraphale could see Crowley’s eyes through his glasses. That was a very poor advantage, compared to everything that betrayed what was going on, but it was something.

“You’re doing good,” Aziraphale whispered, taking his hand away from Crowley’s mouth.

He tugged the annoying t-shirt up, running his fingers on Crowley’s stomach as his right hand kept stroking Crowley’s cock. He wished he could see it, but he couldn’t risk taking the blanket off. Not with his own orgasm building up and his miracles getting messier and sloppier by the minute.

Crowley buried his face in his hands and Aziraphale saw him open his mouth in a silent scream behind his fingers.

“So beautiful,” Aziraphale murmured, his mind speaking up for himself.

Crowley thrust in his hand a bit more abruptly than before, and Aziraphale squeezed only slightly the hand on his cock, not resisting the urge to kiss Crowley’s neck.

One of Crowley’s hands flew over his head, holding onto Aziraphale’s neck as he bit down his other hand, muffling a cry as he came between Aziraphale’s fingers.

Aziraphale came as Crowley arched his back and offered just the slightest friction, which was more than enough for the angel to climax. Just the sight of Crowley might have been enough. 

He kept his nose against Crowley’s neck, breathing in calmly in his post-orgasm bliss, kissing the skin once in a while. He felt Crowley’s fingers drawing circles on the spot where he had rather harshly pulled Aziraphale’s hair.

“People noticed,” Crowley said after a while.

“I know,” Aziraphale muttered against his neck.

He hadn’t meant to, but performing miracles to convince people to look away while he was coming was not a great idea. People had been drawn in, instead. Which was one of the reasons why Aziraphale didn’t look up from the comfort of Crowley’s neck.

He relaxed when he felt Crowley’s own miracle, thanking him in a breath. Crowley focused for a few more seconds, then he moved away a bit, just enough to look at Aziraphale, smiling, and kiss him.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, kissing him back as if discovering his lips for the first time. 


End file.
